Edgar Wallace

“ That night at nine o'clock, Cord Van Ingen paced with beating heart the length of the tiny enclosed garden upon which the side-door of the hotel opened, and glanced up eagerly at every sound of footsteps. There may be men who can go to a lover's appointment with an even pulse, but Cord Van Ingen was not one of them. His heart sang a pæan of joy and praise. He was going to see Doris! A broad shaft of yellow light streaming from an unshuttered window in the second story, told him that the detective was still busy writing reports and preparing despatches. ”

“ He walked over to where the count sat reading.
"Ivan," he said—he had never so addressed him before—"is the end near?"
The count had raised his clear eyes when the other had come toward him; he smiled.
"Which variety of end?" he asked.
"There is only one variety," said Baggin steadily. "There is only one thing in the world that counts, and that is life."
"Not money?" asked the Russian, with a faint, ironical smile.
"Not money," repeated Baggin. "Least of all, money—but life!"
Poltavo arose. He had seen the flutter of a white skirt at the far end of the promenade-deck. ”

“ Livid of face, Captain Lombrosa sprang to the wheel.
"It's a Yankee man-o'-war!" he cried, and his voice was cracked. "We've——"
As he spoke the superstructure on the "intermediate," which had excited the count's curiosity, fell apart like a house of canvas—as it was—and the long slim barrel of a nine-inch gun swung round.
"Bang!"
The shell carried away a boat and a part of the wireless cabin.
"Every gun!" yelled Lombrosa, frantically pressing the buttons on the bridge before him. "We must run for it!" ”

“ Baggin went on; "between freedom and us there lies a shadow."
He stopped and looked from mask to mask.
"That shadow," he said slowly, "is Count Ivan Poltavo, the man who knows our secrets, who has done our work, the one man in the world who holds our lives in the hollow of his——"
Before he had finished he saw their eyes leave his face and seek the door, and he turned to meet the calm scrutiny of the subject of his discourse. He had entered the room whilst Baggin was speaking and stood listening. ”

“ Cord, will you go for our things?"
It was the count who handed the ladies to their places in the unobtrusively elegant electric coupe, while Van Ingen stood doggedly at his elbow, awaiting a last word with Doris. He was bitterly jealous of his rival, who, to the boy's inflamed mind, seemed perversely lingering over his farewells.
There was some colour for his anger. The count had taken the girl's hand, and bending down so low that the two dark heads almost touched, was murmuring in her ear.
She smiled, but shook her head.
"Every moment to-morrow is already gone. And the next day also!" ”

“ Van Ingen lighted a cigarette, and sauntered out upon the narrow street. He meant to stroll toward the plaza, and have a look at the cathedral. As he stood for a moment in front of the hotel, uncertain of the direction, an old crone, such as haunt the steps of churches with trinkets and sacred relics for sale, hobbled up to him, scanned his face sharply, and dropped a courtesy.
"Señor Van Eenge?" she asked, in a clear soft whisper.
The young man fell back a pace in amazement. "Yes," he admitted curtly. On the instant he thought of Poltavo, and his hand went into his coat pocket. ”

“ The stranger who was bowing over her hand, a trifle lower than an Englishman would have done, was slender and distinguished looking, faultlessly dressed, and wearing a bunch of Parma violets. He had a way of looking at one gravely with an air of concentrated attention, as if he were seeing through the words, into the very soul of the speaker. He was, indeed, a wonderful listener, and this quality, added to a certain boyish candour of temperament, accounted perhaps for Count Poltavo's popularity in society. ”

“ Grayson, lounging easily in a deep leather chair, regarded him with something of the contempt the lazy man always entertains for the active one. The beginning of a secret dislike formed vaguely in his brain. His thoughts flew to Poltavo, a bright contrast. "I wish he would bring me news of Doris," he muttered. A wistful look crept into his face.
There was a discreet double knock at the door, it fell open, and Count Poltavo was revealed framed picturesquely in the archway.
He wore a black felt hat and a velvet-lined cappa which fell about him in long graceful folds. ”

“ Don't you, Cord?"
"Don't I wish you were?" Cord Van Ingen looked across at her with smiling significant eyes, which brought a flush to her cheeks.
"No," he said softly, "I do not!"
The girl laughed at him and shrugged her round white shoulders.
"For a young diplomat, Cord, you are too obvious—too delightfully verdant. You should study indirection, subtlety, finesse—study Poltavo!"
At the name the boy's brow darkened.
"Study the devil!" he muttered under his breath. ”

“ When he came again on deck, Baggin pointed triumphantly toward the north. "We make our final appeal to the world!" he cried.
It came reluctantly into view, a big grey-painted steamer with red-and-black funnels, a great, lumbering ocean beast.
Through their glasses the three men watched her, a puzzled frown upon the captain's face.
"I do not recognise her," he said, "but she looks like a gigantic cargo steamer."
"Her decks are crowded with passengers," said Baggin. "I can see women's hats and men in white; what is that structure forward?" ”

“ POLTAVO LEAVES HURRIEDLY
In an instant the road was filled with men; they must have been crouching in the shadow of the grassy plateau, but in that same instant Poltavo had leapt back to the cover of the garden. A revolver banged behind him; and, as he ran, he snatched his own revolver from his pocket, and sent two quick shots into the thick of the surrounding circle. There was another gate at the farther end of the garden; there would be men there, but he must risk it. He was slight and had some speed as a runner; he must depend upon these gifts. ”

“ That night, a slender man, wearing a felt hat and a cappa, descended the steps of one of the villas of the Marshan, and walked through the garden.
There was a man standing in the middle of the white road, his hands in his overcoat pocket, the red glow of his cigar a point of light in the gloom. Farther away, he saw the figures of three horsemen.
"Count Poltavo, I suppose," drawled a voice—the voice of T. B. Smith. "Put up your hands or you're a dead man." ”

“ Van Ingen sprang to his feet; his face was livid with anger.
"Then, sir," he cried hotly, "I shall ruin my career, with the greatest pleasure in life. Miss Grayson—Doris—is worth inestimably more to me than any paltry success, or material advantage. Moreover," he continued, composing himself with a strong effort, "I disagree with you, even upon worldly grounds. Marriage with Doris will not mar me—it will make me. Without her, I shall be ineffectual, a nobody to the end of my days. Without her, living has no aim, no purpose. She justifies existence. ”

“ From every dinner-table in London arose the excited clamour of discussion. Lady Angela defended him stoutly, declaring that as an artist, and ignorant of money, he had been misled by bad, clever rascals. Men who had been forced to take second place in his presence, now came forward, boldly, and stated that they had always suspected him to be a rogue.
One brilliant young man achieved a week-long fame by looking up his record at Scotland Yard. It appeared that the count was indeed a black-hearted villain. ”

“ There were weeks of fretting and days of blank despair in one room at Scotland Yard. For the examination of all clues led to the one end. Somewhere in the world were the Nine Men of Cadiz—but where, none could say. Every port in every civilised land was alert. Captains of mail steamers, of grimy little tramps, of war vessels of every nation, watched for the battleship. Three British cruisers, detached unostentatiously from the Home Fleet, cruised unlikely seas, but with no good result. ”

“ All the morning preparations were going on. Ammunition came up from the magazine, dilatory quartermasters swung out guns; on the masthead was an under-officer armed with a telescope.
He was the principal object of interest to the men on the quarter-deck. Every few minutes their eyes would go sweeping aloft.
Beyond the curtest salutations, neither the captain, Baggin, nor the calm Poltavo spoke. In Baggin's heart grew a new terror, and he avoided the count.
The sun beat down on the stretch of awning that protected the privileged three, but, for some reason, Baggin did not feel the heat. ”

“ I should like you and Miss Grayson—and Mr. Van Ingen, if he can find the time," he bowed politely to the young American, "to visit my studio."
Doris clapped her hands. "Delightful!" she exclaimed. "And will you do a sketch of auntie with her head cocked a bit to one side, like a pert little robin, and that adorable crooked smile?"
Lady Dinsmore patted her hand with a tolerant smile. "It is you that the count wishes to paint, my dear, not a wizened old woman like me."
"If I might try both of you," the count replied. "Sometimes, with people who are my friends, the result is not so bad. ”

“ Lady Patricia viewed their departing backs with a fleeting ironical smile.
"Your father, my dear," she murmured to Doris, "is a very remarkable man."
Out in the fresh air, Grayson revived amazingly. His feebleness disappeared as if by magic, and he stepped out briskly. He nodded to a hansom in the rank and the man drew in to the opening.
"The Savoy," cried Grayson.
He sprang in hastily.
Van Ingen made as if to follow, but Grayson held the apron door securely.
"No need in the world for you to accompany me, dear boy," he exclaimed, smiling. "Go back. I feel quite braced already. ”

“ We are dogs that dare not show our noses abroad; we're exiled and damned, and there is no future."
"You might as well be here as in prison," philosophised his friend. "And in prison you most certainly would be, if not worse——"
"We had no hand in the murders," interrupted Grayson pleadingly. "Now did we, Baggin?"
"I know little about the English law," drawled George T. Baggin, sometime treasurer of the London, Manhattan, and Jersey Securities Syndicate. "But such knowledge as I have enables me to say with certainty that we should be hanged—sure." ”

“ The audacity of the question struck the baronet dumb.
"Failing?" he repeated. "Bronte's fail—Mr. Smith, are you jesting?"
"I was never more in earnest," said T. B. "Think what you like of my impertinence, but humour me, please."
The banker looked hard at the man before him, as though to detect some evidence of ill-timed humour.
"It is no more possible for Bronte's to fail than the Bank of England," he said brusquely. ”

“ Baggin," he said, with comic earnestness, "we've got to compromise! It's got to be done. Where do we stand, eh?"
Baggin puffed leisurely at his cigar, but made no attempt to elucidate the position.
He was used to all this; but now, with his nerves on edge, this cowardice of Grayson's grated.
"Where are the Nine Men of Cadiz?" demanded Grayson, the sweat rolling down his cheeks. "Where is Bortuski? Where is Morson? Where is Couthwright? Zillier, we know where he is, or was, but where are the others? You and me and Count Poltavo and the rest—phutt!" He made a little noise with his mouth. ”

“ Count Poltavo nodded. "I know," he said simply. "Will you be my very good friend and tell me why?"
Lady Dinsmore smiled. "I will do better than that," she said kindly. "I will be your very good friend and give you a chance to ask her why. Cord," she bent forward and tapped the young man upon the shoulder with her fan, "will you come over here and tell me what your chief means by permitting all this dreadful war-talk with Japan. Is it true that you Americans are going to fight those pleasant little men?" ”

“ One of our contemporaries draws a fanciful picture of life on some gorgeous Southern Pacific isle, out of the track of steamers, and pictures the Nine Men living in a condition of Oriental splendour, an existence of dolce far niente. Such a supposition is, of course, on the face of it absurd. Such an island exists only in the fancy of the romantic writer. The uninhabited portions of the globe are few, and are, in the main, of the character of the Sahara desert. Wherever life can be sustained, wherever comfort and freedom from disease wait the newcomer, be sure the newcomer has already arrived. ”

“ The captain discreetly followed them.
The two men stood in silence, gazing down at the huddled figure. Then, "He must go," said Baggin.
Poltavo was silent a moment.
"No," he said finally, "I do not agree."
Baggin regarded him blackly.
"I see your point," he said, with biting emphasis. "With the others"—he wet his dry lips—"you cast the black vote fast enough——"
The count elevated his eyebrows. "Why refer to such things?" he objected mildly. "If they be necessary—do them, swiftly and well—but be silent, even as Nature is silent. For Mr. Grayson, he is—how you say—a very sick man. ”

“ He had come to Burgos from Madrid by an express, and had travelled all night, and yet he was the trimmest and most alert of the crowd which thronged the Calle de Vitoria, a crowd made up of peasants, tourists, and soldiers.
He made a slow progress, for the crowd grew thicker in the vicinity of the Casa del Cordon, where the loyal country-folk waited patiently for a glimpse of their young king.
The stranger stood for a little while looking up at the expressionless windows of the Casa, innocent of curtain, but strangely clean. He speculated on the value of life—of royal life. ”

“ Oh!" she exclaimed passionately, "he is not bad, Count Poltavo—as Baggin is—as I once thought you were—but only weak, and swayed by his imagination. He sees things big. He dreams of a financial empire such as the world never knew." ”

“ It is human electricity—the motive power of the world. With my power, the spark I feel within me here"—he touched his white shirt-front—"I could wipe out kingdoms and principalities, change the map of Europe more drastically than Napoleon—and bloodlessly! Think of it a moment, my prosaic, financial friend! I who sit here in this room, with you and a dead man, can do these things! Just one little pawn in the game is missing. Money. A few million pounds for running expenses and for salaries to my—er—myrmidons! That item, Mr. Baggin, I expect to be supplied by you." ”

“ Hitherto they had been regarded merely as a band of dangerous and clever swindlers, Napoleonic in their method; now, they were murderers—dangerous, devilish men without pity or remorse.
The man Moss by some accident had been associated with them—a tool perhaps, but a tool who had surprised their secret. He was not the type of man who, of his own intelligence, would have made discoveries. He mentioned Hyatt and "the man on the Eiffel Tower." That might have been the wanderings of a dying man, but Hyatt had come to light. ”

“ Count Poltavo started.
"It was after he had decoded a telegram. He looked up and spoke of your brilliance and discretion. He said you had the mind of a Napoleon."
"It is true that I was able to do your father a service," he replied slowly. "I did him another to-night." He smiled with a certain mysticism. "In truth, it was what delayed me. But as for your—ah—conspiracy, Miss Grayson, believe me, I know little. That a—a committee exists, with a president——"
"Baggin!" breathed the girl. Her eyes were wide with terror. ”

“ He bent down and smoothed with gentle fingers the soft dusky hair. The fragrance of it filled his nostrils. Its softness sent a delicious ecstasy thrilling from his finger-tips up his arm. He trembled throughout his entire frame. All his life, he declared to himself with passionate sincerity, he would love her like this. All his life he would remember this one moment. He gazed down at her tenderly, a wonderful light in his young face.
"Dear!" he whispered again.
She lifted a pallid face to him. Her violet eyes were misty, and tiny drops of dew were still tangled in her lashes. ”